


In Sickness

by coffeejunkii



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Clint Needs a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Phil also gives the best hugs, Phil makes everything better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 03:25:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1154202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeejunkii/pseuds/coffeejunkii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint wakes up with a sore throat and a stuffy nose. He ignores both; there's no way he can be sick. He's going on a date with Phil this evening, after all, and there's no way he's missing it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Sickness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snottygrrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snottygrrl/gifts).



> A belated birthday gift for snottygrrl! I hope it lives up to your prompt. <3
> 
> Beta by Rurounihime, as always.

Clint wakes up with a sore throat and a stuffy nose. He ignores both; there's no way he can be sick. He's going on a date with Phil this evening, after all, and there's no way he's missing it. 

Maybe some time on the range will fix this. Shooting fixes a lot of things for Clint.

The singular focus on targets does muffle the increasing feeling of unwellness. If Clint can keep up this focus, their third date might happen after all. Dinner and a movie—Clint's never been on one of those dates before, and he knows Phil's excited about it, too. Phil's the one who came up with the idea of proper dates. A little bit of normalcy, he said. 

Of course their lives aren't exactly normal, so there have already been all kinds of making out on Phil's office couch and even more sex—in a bed, even—so maybe the whole going-on-dates thing is superfluous. But Clint still likes that they're trying to do some of the mundane things that couples do. He especially likes that Phil thinks he's worth the effort. Clint can't mess that up.

**

For five minutes after leaving the range, Clint feels pretty good. Then he starts coughing, and his head hurts so much he worries it might explode. He steadies himself against the wall when remaining upright becomes a challenge.

A nap will stop the further incursion of this death-cold-flu-whatever-thing.

Clint barely makes it through the elevator ride. He struggles out of his clothes as he walks toward the bed, collapsing on top of the comforter.

**

He wakes up at 6pm, an hour before Phil is supposed to pick him up. His head and throat hurt worse than before his five-hour nap. Clint resigns himself to the fact that the date won't happen. It takes him five minutes to text Phil because he keeps hitting the wrong letters.

**

Clint surfaces into a fuzzy half-awake state due to an insistent knocking on his door. Either that or the pain in his head has become audible. No, definitely the door.

He manages to grab a T-shirt off the floor. It's freezing cold in his apartment, which is impossible, because JARVIS keeps the temperature at a pleasant 68.5 degrees at all times. Shivering, Clint pulls on a pair of sweatpants as well.

When Clint opens the door, he wonders if he's hallucinating. It's Phil, in jeans and that sweater Clint secretly loves because it's so soft. He's holding a plastic bag and smiles at Clint.

“Hi,” Phil says. “Can I come in?”

Not a hallucination, then. “Sure.” He lets Phil move past him and closes the door. “What—what're you doing here? You didn't get my text?” Talking is hell on Clint's throat.

“I did. You said you were sick. I thought—do you want me to go? I brought some things that might help you feel better, but I can leave them if you'd rather—”

“No.” Clint doesn't want Phil to leave. “Thanks.” He begins to feel unsteady on his feet again. When he tries to walk past Phil to the couch, he sways dangerously.

“Whoa, hey.” Phil catches Clint and draws him close. 

Phil feels wonderful. Steady and warm. Clint slumps against him. He's never moving again. 

“I got you,” Phil murmurs. “You're really sick, aren't you?”

Words are too hard. Clint lets out an indistinct noise. Phil's hand brushes over his head and the side of his face, a careful touch. 

“I think you might have a fever. You're feeling really warm.”

Even in his foggy state of mind, Clint realizes that a fever is bad. He's probably spreading germs all over Phil, and then Phil's going to get sick, too. He pulls away. 

Phil uses the opportunity to place the back of his hand against Clint's forehead. There's a concerned look on his face. “Definitely a fever.”

“You don' hav'to stay.”

“If you'd rather be alone, I'll leave.” Phil's voice is filled with warmth and understanding.

Obviously, Clint doesn't want Phil to leave, but he should. Clint can manage. Unless Phil already knows about some upcoming mission that he needs Clint to go on, and he wants to make sure that Clint gets well as quickly as possible. “We got new orders?”

Phil frowns. “Orders?”

“Yeah. New mission, so I gotta get well.”

Phil looks away, but Clint can still see that he's upset, bordering on angry. He doesn't understand; it's not his fault that he got sick, and Phil's usually not angry with him about things he doesn't have control over.

When Phil looks at him again, the anger is gone. “There's no new mission. That's not why I'm here. I'm here because I—I care about you, and I want to be here for you because you're not doing well. Is that okay?”

Clint nods. It's a little much to process especially with his brain not running at full capacity. Of course Phil's taken care of him before, in the field, but that was different. Or right now is different because Phil doesn't have to be there. He wants to be there, for Clint. Just because Clint has a cold. Or maybe the flu from hell.

Phil pulls him against his side. “Come on, you look like you need to sit down.”

He maneuvers Clint onto the couch and spreads a blanket over him. Then he unpacks his bag. There's orange juice and a large container of soup and various cold meds. “I didn't know what you had, so I brought a selection.”

“Thanks.” Clint pulls the blanket up to his chin. He still feels cold.

“I wasn't sure about this, but I got it just in case you have trouble sleeping.” Phil gestures at the NyQuil.

Clint doesn't like things that knock him out, and Phil knows that. But if Phil's here to watch his back, then it's alright, maybe. 

“Have you eaten?”

Clint doesn't remember. He doesn't feel hungry. “Maybe?”

Phil looks at him with exasperation. “I can vouch for the soup. In fact, I wouldn't mind a bowl. Wanna share?”

Clint could probably eat some soup. “Sure.”

Phil gets dishes and silverware. The soup is excellent and it makes Clint's throat hurt less. Phil hands Clint some pills after they finish. Clint swallows them down with orange juice, trusting Phil to know the right dosage. 

Clint can barely keep his eyes open. He's awkwardly hunched against the side of the couch, but he doesn't care. He just wants to go to sleep.

Phil grasps him with gentle force. “You'll hurt your neck if you go to sleep like that.”

Clint notices that Phil sits down behind him. There's some arranging of limbs during which Clint is of no use whatsoever. When they're done, they're both half-lying on the couch, with Clint on top of Phil. 

“'m too heavy,” Clint protests.

“You're not.” Phil's fingers rub over Clint's nape. “Go to sleep.”

Phil manages to take some of the pain away, and he's so warm, and he's holding Clint in just the right way. It's not fair that Clint is benefiting from all of this when they were both supposed to have a good time. “Sorry for messing up our date.”

“You didn't. Clint—” Phil pauses. His voice is incredibly fond when he continues. “You know that I'm in this for the long haul, right? Our dates are great, but that's not...I just as much want to be here with you when you're sick.”

“You'll p'bably get sick, too.”

“Well, maybe then you could bring me some soup, too.” There's a haste to Phil's words, as if he isn't entirely sure he really wants to say them.

“Okay, yeah.” Of course Clint would bring Phil soup. “Are you gonna stay?” They haven't done that yet.

“If you want.”

“Mmhmm.”

The smile is easy to hear. “Then yes, I'll stay.”

Something eases in Clint's chest. “Love you.”

Phil's breath hitches. “I love you, too.”


End file.
